


asphalt to me has never looked so soft

by Vauvenal



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Gen, Suicide, references of past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21760837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vauvenal/pseuds/Vauvenal
Summary: There's only so much pressure a man can take.Until he breaks.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	asphalt to me has never looked so soft

The lights of Wyndon are shining below him, little droplets of white and blue and green in a sea of black. He smiles a bitter smile for no one to see, leaning against a steel beam at the top of the battle tower’s build site. He used to let Charizard carry him up here when he needed some alone time or wanted to check on the progress of the building, but this time he’s taken the stairs.

It’s been an interesting climb through the corridors where he shouldn’t be, the dim light from the build site lights soon replaced by the twinkling stars of Galar’s night sky.

He lets his gaze wander around on the platform. His little project is almost finished.

_ They’ll be fine without me. _

He steps towards the edge, watching the town and the surrounding icefield spread out before him with every step he takes. The view truly is breathtaking. From up here, the entire world seems at his feet. If he squints, he can see the top of Hammerlocke’s tower glimmer against the black sky. 

_ You’re stalling. _

Without breaking his look at the sky, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lights one and takes a deep, deep drag from it. He savors in the burning sensation in the back of his throat before exhaling through his nose and sending a small, blue cloud into the cold air. The bruises around his wrists and neck are almost invisible in the bleak light of the moon, but he still avoids looking at his hands too much, instead staring at the horizon until he can see little lights dancing behind his eyelids when he closes his eyes to breathe in deep.

He’s weirdly calm. On the way up the tower, he’s gone through his plan like a checklist, like a timetable for just another day in his life.

He wrote a letter to his mum and brother (that alone took him a good hour), brought his Pokémon to the nursery (he left Hop’s number “just in case I’m not back by tomorrow”), put Rotom in sleep mode (he didn’t want anyone to disturb him) and took the train to Wyndon, staring out the window, watching the rolling fields of Galar pass by him for one last time.

Now he’s up here. Wind is tearing at his shirt, is whisking away the smoke of his cigarette and plucking at his hair. 

He climbs over the makeshift railing the builders have left. The steel is pressing against his back and the toes of his feet are peeking over the concrete edge.

The sea of lights below him looks so  _ inviting _ .

Absentmindedly, he finished his smoke, extinguishes it and puts it in his pocket ash tray. No need to trouble anyone cleaning up his cigarette butt on top of everything.

One more time, he inhales the night air, inhales deeply until nothing more will fit in his lungs and an icy burn spreads in his chest.

He feels so  _ alive _ .

It’s the perfect moment.

Without exhaling, he shifts his weight just a little to the front.

His feet lose their hold.

He feels like flying.

**Author's Note:**

> My legs are dangling off the edge  
> The bottom of the bottle is my only friend  
> I think I'll slit my wrists again and I'm gone, gone, gone  
> My legs are dangling off the edge  
> A stomach full of pills didn't work again  
> I'll put a bullet in my head and I'm gone, gone, gone
> 
> Hollywood Undead - "Bullet"


End file.
